


As Long As You Love Me So

by Eyesarmslove



Series: Fatherhood: A Guide [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Chrismakkuh, F/F, F/M, Fic for Alex, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyesarmslove/pseuds/Eyesarmslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years into their relationship, Puck is still navigating being Kurt's boyfriend. The Chrismakkuh season brings him joy, friendship, and less than stellar gifts. Wait, what? </p>
<p>Or The One Where Kurt Sucks at Getting Gifts, but Manages to Knock this Year Out of the Park</p>
<p>Sequel to 'Let It Snow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You Love Me So

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xlessxthanx3x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlessxthanx3x/gifts).



> For Alex, my light and love. I hope you like it. 
> 
> Second in the series Fatherhood: A Guide.

Puck was sort of dreading this holiday season. It didn’t seem all that reasonable given his circumstances. People who dreaded the holidays usually were single (not the case here) missed out on seeing family (his mother and sister were due to arrive at JFK in about 23 hours), or didn’t have a job and couldn’t afford to buy their loved ones presents (his assistant directing gig wasn’t making him millions, but he was way past comfortable).

 

Puck was living in the best city in the world, surrounded by friends, family, and a wonderful boyfriend. What the hell was he worried about?

 

It wasn’t that he was _worried_ , per se. More like he was preparing himself for the crushing disappointment that came with opening his Christmas gift from Kurt.

 

People who knew Kurt knew of his almost unreal prowess when it came to shopping. Seriously, the level of stamina and skill that went into a shopping trip with Kurt was ridiculous. He made it an Olympic sport—one which he would hold many gold medals in, with a Miss Mercedes Jones getting the silver.

 

Kurt’s Christmas (and birthday) gifts to him have sucked hardcore the past three years of their relationship and it made Puck want to cry.

 

It wasn’t that Puck was ridiculously materialistic or shallow. No. He honestly didn’t give two craps about a stupid present opened under a stupid (real! Kurt insisted) tree. What he was more worried about was the fact that his boyfriend, who he loved more than anyone he had ever loved before (barring his immediate family), could buy presents for others that had them in tears (the good kind) at his thoughtfulness and could only seem to get him presents that brought tears to his eyes (the bad kind).

 

Puck was worried about the ramifications of having a boyfriend that was the Boy-Genius of gift giving not know ass from head what to get a person they supposedly loved. It had been three years (almost to the day) since he and Kurt first got together that fateful Christmas season and Puck still couldn’t believe someone as beautiful and talented and funny as Kurt Hummel would have anything to do with Noah Puckerman.

 

Well, that got maudlin quickly.

 

Puck didn’t believe that, not really, but the holiday season was usually a time of introspection and reflection and that—coupled with Puck’s innate insecurity and self-doubt and Kurt’s rather horrendous gifting history—had Puck spiraling into a depressing frenzy that threatened to ruin his holiday season. But he couldn’t let it. He had to snap himself out of it or Kurt would catch on and most likely either hit him or cry.

 

“Noah? Are you home?” Too late, Puck registered the sound of keys turning in the door of the apartment he shared with Kurt, Finn, and Mercedes.

 

Speak of the devil (in Prada) and he shall appear.

 

“Noah, we brought some of those French macaroons from the Financier that you like so—why are you holding a brisket in the middle of our kitchen?” The look that Kurt leveled at him spoke volumes of questions much deeper than the one uttered out loud.

 

Puck broke his eye contact with Kurt’s incredulous expression to look down. He was wearing oven mitts and carrying a five pound brisket that he had taken out of the oven. Sure enough, he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, in an apron, holding a brisket.

 

Right, the mess of crippling doubts hit him as he was making dinner. He had forgotten that key detail.

 

“Sorry, got lost for a minute there. Also, you got the French macaroons that _you_ like so much,” Puck grinned, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

 

Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, clearly not falling for Puck’s dismissal easily. After a second, the worry was replaced with a sheepish grin, the topic evidently dropped for now, “Yes, well, you like the chocolate ones. I got at least twice as many chocolate ones as I did any other kind, so you were in my thoughts at some point!”

 

Puck laughed and leaned in for a kiss. Kurt eagerly responded, cradling Puck’s face with freezing hands.

 

“Woah, babe, forgot your gloves this morning?” Puck asked when they broke apart. He went over to the counter and placed the (admittedly heavy) Dutch oven on the cutting board he’d laid out beforehand.

 

Kurt was shrugging out of his peacoat when he responded, a guilty expression blooming on his face, “I actually gave them to a homeless woman on the street. I’m sorry, Noah! It was the pair that you got me for Hanukkah, but she looked so cold and fingers were so blue and I couldn’t stand it. I just handed them over and the look she gave me was something else.” He was rambling and clearly agitated because he started getting stuck in his coat. Puck rushed over to help him.

 

“Babe! Babe, calm down.” Kurt deflated in his arms and Puck reached around to peel off the offending garment. “Hey, don’t do that. Kurt, look at me.” Kurt complied and Puck could see the guilt swimming in his eyes. “Babe, your compassion for others is one of my favorite things about you. And I gave you those gloves as a gift. You can do anything you want with them.”

 

Kurt sighed, “I just don’t want you to think that I didn’t love them. Because I did. They’re beautiful. I just couldn’t—“

 

“Shhhhhh.” Puck covered Kurt’s mouth with his hand gently. “I know. I would have probably done the same thing. If I even noticed her. How did you even notice her? It’s New York, there’s no shortage of homeless people, unfortunately.”

 

Kurt removed Puck’s hand and rested his head on Puck’s shoulder. Puck’s arms instinctively went to rest on Kurt’s waist, drawing him closer.

 

“Did I ever tell you that I used to have nightmares all the time about being homeless?”

 

Puck stiffened. He drew back, “What?”

 

“Before I knew that my dad was the best person ever, I was too afraid to come out because all I read was about parents kicking out their kids for being gay or trans. I guess that fear manifested in my subconscious,” Kurt tried to shrug it off but Puck could feel him shaking.

 

“Kurt. That was never going to happen.”

 

“I know that _now_. Jesus, Noah. But it did make me aware of all the kids on the street. And statistics tells me how many of them are probably gay. So, I notice these things.”

 

Puck would bet his ass that he wouldn’t be the only one anymore. God, walking around New York City was hard enough.

 

“Still, I wish you could have held on to those gloves for at least a complete three days,” Puck joked.

 

Kurt moaned, “I know, I’m so sorry, Noah! I really am!”

 

“I was just kidding, babe. I’ll buy you a new pair later,” Puck ran his hands up and down Kurt’s back. 

 

“Don’t! That’s ridiculous. I’ll buy the same pair for myself, no sense in you buying me another gift!”

 

Puck pinched him and Kurt jumped in his arms, “Shut up, princess. I’m buying you the gloves. No arguments.”

 

Kurt glared, ready for a fight. Puck was saved from hearing it at the sound of the front door opening.

 

“Kurt, you know when you said that you’ll run ahead and get Puck to help us with the stuff, we kinda figured that you would actually get him!” Finn yelled from the front door.

 

“Oh my God! I am so sorry! I completely forgot!” Kurt ran out of the room, leaving Puck rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

 

“Boy, I swear to Christ I’m going to beat your ass!”

 

“Ow, ‘Cedes! I’m sorry!”

 

“Not as sorry as I was, dragging this big ass bag down a busy street. I felt like fucking Santa!”

 

Puck walked to the foyer where he took in the sight of Mercedes beating Kurt with her scarf and Finn still struggling under the weight of a giant box. Puck went to help him with it and Finn gave him a relieved smile in return.

 

“Guys, can we call a truce and get started on dinner? The brisket will get cold.” Puck then took in the box and bag in question, “Wait, what the hell is this?”

 

Kurt broke free of Mercedes’ half-hearted noogie-hold, “They’re donated toys we got from Finn’s school! We’re going to wrap them tonight and hand them over to the shelter tomorrow!”

 

Puck grinned, “Awesome. Can we watch _Die Hard_?”

 

Kurt kissed him hard. Puck could hear Mercedes and Finn’s half-hearted protests, but he couldn’t care less.

 

“Never forget how much I love you. You’re the best, Noah.”

 

Puck beamed and ushered the three into the kitchen so that they could commence with their fourth night of Chrismukkah celebration. Fuck presents. Bruce Willis and Russian Potions Master terrorists were what Christmas was all about.

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Puck woke up to an empty right-side of the bed. Well, not totally empty. Even through morning crusted eyes, Puck could see that sheet of bright red stationary lying on Kurt’s pillow.

 

_Dear Noah,_

_Merry Christmas Eve Eve and Happy 5 th Day of Hanukkah! I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye this morning, but I had to get into work early and you looked so peaceful asleep that I couldn’t bear to wake you up. I’ll be home at 3 or so and we can rejoice in the no-work-for-Kurt for ten whole days! I could sing with joy! Just kidding, I’m not Rachel. _

_Anyway, your sister and mother will be at JFK at seven and my Dad and Carole will be there at eight. My boss is letting me borrow his SUV, so we can head out at six and hopefully not hit traffic on the Belt_ (yeah, okay) _, which is unlikely, I know. Whatever. The Joneses will be here tomorrow morning by car. And I know you know all of this, because I personally have told you like, a thousand times, but I’m so excited! We’ve never had such a large Chrismukkah in New York before! I’m really glad that Seth is letting our parents stay in his apartment while he’s on his honeymoon. And I’m_ especially _glad that Mercedes and I had a chance to clean said apartment. Ugh._

_I’m rambling. I’m rambling in a letter. I better stop myself here. I have to shower anyway. You’re still sleeping and you look both sweet and ridiculously attractive and I still cannot believe I’m dating you. I feel like the luckiest being alive._

_All my love,_

_Kurt_

Puck was not crying. He was definitely _not crying_.

 

“Dude, are you crying?”

 

Fucking Finn.

 

“No! And what the fuck are you doing in my room, Hudson? Get out!” Puck threw a pillow at Finn, who was standing in the doorway eating a bowl of cereal.

 

Finn dodged and ate another bite, unconcerned, “You’re totally crying. What’s up?”

 

Puck wiped the not-tears from his eyes. “Nothing, man. Just your brother being a pansy sap. What the fuck is it about this holiday that has him acting like a Hallmark card and one of Santa’s elves on crack all at once?”

 

“Dunno. But it’s fun, for the most part. And at least you got to sleep in. He called me on my cell an hour ago to remind me to go shopping for dinner tonight,” Finn rolled his eyes. “You forget the potatoes one time and Kurt’ll never let you forget it.” 

 

“I’d agree with you, dude, but we were making latkes.” Puck laughed at the memory of Kurt’s incredulous face and pushed himself out of bed. “What time is it anyway?”

 

“It’s eleven. I still haven’t gone to the grocery store, wanna come?”

 

“Let me shower and eat first.”

 

 

 

 

Within half an hour, Puck and Finn were on their way to the store, reusable bags in hand, of which Mercedes reminded them gently ( _“Do you want Kurt to have a bitchfit about the plastic bags and dolphins again?!”_ ).

 

“Did you get ‘Cedes a present yet?” Puck inquired as they dodged a gaggle of girls excitedly chattering about some concert.

 

“Yeah, and I think she’ll like it.” Finn grinned. “I mean, it’s not a set of brass knuckles, but who can top a present like that?”

 

Puck groaned and elbowed him in the stomach, “Fuck you, dude! I still have nightmares about that fucking Christmas!”

 

Finn was laughing uproariously at this point, stopping in the middle of the street to double over. Puck shoved him again.

 

“It was so fucking awful! What was he thinking?”

 

Finn wiped tears from his eyes and said, still chuckling, “I don’t know. But your face was priceless. And Kurt looked so proud of himself, too. It was comedic gold.”

 

Puck shook his head. “So I’m not the only one that’s noticed this?”

 

“The fact that Kurt’s presents to you have sucked royally? Yeah, no. Everyone knows it. I think even Kurt’s caught on by now.”   

 

“What?!”

 

Finn snorted as he held open the door to the grocery store for Puck. “Dude, your acting skills blow. Hardcore. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’ve been disappointed and Kurt’s no dumbass.”

 

“ _Why didn’t you tell me?”_ Puck’s hysteria scared a stock boy to the point of dropping the cans of beets he was shelving.

 

“So sorry!” Finn rushed to help the boy pick up the cans and glared at Puck, who was beside himself.

 

“Dude, will you _chill out_? It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. He feels really bad about it!” Finn handed over the last can of beets and clapped the kid on the shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring manner, Puck was pretty sure.

 

“I don’t want him to feel bad. That’s why I faked being happy!”

 

Finn rolled his eyes, “You suck at acting, okay? You may be an award-winning director or whatever, but Nick Cage acts better than you.”

 

Ouch. That hurt. “Yeah. Well. Fuck you, too.” Puck snatched the list from Finn and started looking for the breadcrumbs.

 

“Don’t be like that. I’m not saying it to make fun of you or anything. You asked how he knew and that’s the answer. But, like I said, he feels bad.”

 

“And like _I_ said, I don’t want him to feel bad. I don’t care about dumb presents. He makes me happy all the time. Like today, with the letter—“ Puck cut himself off, ducking his head so that Finn wouldn’t see the blush crawling up his face.

 

“Awwwww, did Kurt give Noah a love letter? How sweet!” Finn pinched both of Puck’s cheeks and made exaggerated kissy faces at him.

 

“Arrrrggghhh. Let go, you fucking giant!” Puck slapped Finn’s hands off and Finn reciprocated the gesture, leading to them flailing their arms in the middle of Trader Joe’s.

 

When they finally stopped, they noticed the audience they had acquired.

 

“What are you looking at?” Puck’s menacing face had the crowd dispersing in a hurry. He turned back to Finn, who was grinning. “You look like the Joker.”

 

“It’s Chrismukkah, dude. You can’t compare me to murderous supervillans. Not cool.”

 

“Shut up. Let’s get this stuff and get out of here. If we get home in an hour, I can make challah,” Puck replied.

 

“Oh yeah!” Finn grabbed the list and ran off to the poultry section. “No way am I missing out on bread goodness by sticking around Trader Joe’s.”

 

 

 

 

 

They were wrist deep in raw egg when Kurt came home that afternoon. Mercedes was taking pictures of Finn in an apron that declared his love for fruitcakes and Puck was making obscene noises to freak out Finn as they rubbed the egg on two loaves of rising challah.

 

“Hear that squelching, Hudson? That’s the exact sound that my hand makes as I jerk Kurt off right after I sucked his—“

 

“Oh my GOD!”

 

Puck burst out laughing at Kurt’s face. “Hey, babe.”

 

“Noah, what in the heaven’s name are you saying?” Kurt voice hit notes previously only accessible by three year old girls.

 

“I’m just explaining to Finn what this noise reminds me of and it happens to be—“

 

“ _Stop it!_ ” the Hummel-Hudson brothers yelled in unison and Puck was in stitches. Between Kurt’s bright red face and Finn’s green one, they really were decking the halls.

 

“You’re terrible, Noah.” Kurt hung up his coat and pecked Mercedes’ cheek in greeting.

 

“That’s not what you said last night—“

 

“Alright, alright. Enough with the sex talk. Finn’s actually about to hurl. How was your day at work, Kurt?” Mercedes asked as she offered Kurt a bite of her Christmas cookie dough.

 

Kurt took the proffered bite, licking Mercedes’ fingers as he went. She laughed and Puck and Finn protested.

 

“Hey! Tongue off my girlfriend!”

 

Puck agreed, “What he said. Do you think I could compete with Mercedes? Let’s not break my heart this close to Christmas.”

 

Kurt snorted, “I love ‘Cedes, but she is too much woman for me to handle. The only woman I could get it on with is Kiera Knightly, but that’s only because she looks so much like a man.”

 

“She does not!” Finn yelled.

 

“She does too!”

 

“Every freaking year. Why, Lord?” Mercedes looked to the ceiling as if it held some answers to the insanity that was her boyfriend and best friend’s relationship.

 

“It’s Christmas tradition by now, ‘Cedes,” Puck replied in lieu of a divine response.

 

“So is my Uncle Alfred getting caught with his pants down in the backyard. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

 

Finn broke off from his argument to ask “Is Alfred the lawyer uncle that crossdresses sometimes?”

 

Mercedes rolled her eyes, “No, that’s Uncle Clarence. Uncle Alfred is the one with the fro that reminds you of Samuel Jackson.”

 

Kurt snickered and Finn turned red, “He kept yelling ‘Muthafucka’! It was an apt comparison.”

 

“My favorite of your uncles is James because he looks like Idris Elba.” Kurt’s smile was almost wistful. “So hot.”

 

“I’ll be sure to let him and his wife know.”

 

“Please do.” Kurt laughed as Mercedes hip checked him. “Anyway, I believe you asked me about my day. It was fine. Only two diva meltdowns and only one was mine. Why do people ask me to decorate their homes and then insist on ignoring my opinion? I’m not saying no to the blue tiger striped couch for my _health_.” He paused, thoughtful. “Actually, it’s a little for my health. But it’s mostly for the sanctity of their home!”

 

Puck laughed, “Can it be as bad as I’m picturing right now?”

 

“Worse, Noah. Much worse,” Kurt sighed.

 

“Well, whatever. You’re home now. In about one hour, we are going to have freshly baked challah and cinnamon sugar butter. It’s the fifth night of Hanukkah and our families will be here soon.” Puck was now vigorously spreading the egg yolk on his braided dough. “You have no work for the next ten days, Mercedes has no schoolwork, Finn is off until schools are back open. I have no foreseeable work for the near future.”

 

Kurt was giggling. Finn was grinning and Mercedes beaming.

 

“It’s officially _the season_ , so can we put on some awful Christmas CDs and deck the halls?”

 

“Yes!”

 

 

 

 

 

The old-fashioned grandfather clock in the corner chimed eleven, reminding the inhabitants of the small restaurant that they were only one hour away from Christmas. Puck surveyed the room, still not quite believing that Kurt managed to pull it off.

 

Kurt’s friend owned _Zenubia_ , a quaint, little Syrian restaurant in the East Village that Mercedes, Finn, him, and Kurt frequented often on their double dates. Selwa closed the restaurant right after lunch for the holiday, but Kurt pleaded her to let them occupy the space that evening after they had dined somewhere else. Puck remembered how Kurt cornered her one night a couple of weeks ago.

 

_“Please, Selwa? I’ll owe you forever! We’ll just be drinking and talking. I swear I will mop and close up shop and make it look like we were never there!” Kurt’s hands were clasped in front of his face in supplication. To Puck, it looked like he was about ten seconds away from falling to his knees._

_Selwa brushed back her dark hair, the low-lighting in the restaurant making her pale skin alight and her dark eyes shine. “What I don’t understand is why. Why do you need my restaurant of all places?”_

_“We have twenty people coming over for Christmas Eve! There is no_ way _we can fit everyone in our apartment even if they all stand! Selwa, please I know this is a lot, but—“_

_“Kurt, do you know why my restaurant is called_ Zenubia _?”_

_Puck couldn’t help but start laughing at the look Selwa was leveling his boyfriend. He’s seen that look before on the faces of Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, and Mercedes Jones.  Kurt was screwed._

_“No, Selwa, I have no idea.” Kurt sighed, anticipating the rejection._

_“Zenubia was the queen of what is now Syria. She reined the land after her husband died. She never remarried so that she could have total power. And she did not stand idly by when enemy armies invaded. No, she led her troops into battle. She led her troops into battle on horseback.” Here, Selwa paused to cross her arms, walking into Kurt’s personal space, getting right up into his face. Which was a feat, considering her 5 foot 4 frame compared to Kurt’s almost 6 foot one._

_“Topless. Completely. Topless.”_

_Puck blinked, mind flooding with images. His brain registered Kurt doing the same, but with a tinge of nausea. Puck couldn’t really find himself to agree._

_“Uh, ok-ay. Are you about to take off your shirt? Because a simple ‘no’ will suffice, I swear,” Kurt said, raising his hands in surrender._

_Puck loved when Selwa scared the crap out of Kurt._

_“No, Kurt, I am not. But I wanted you to know the spirit of which this restaurant was established—“_

_“Nudity?”_

_“No, not nudity, stupid man!” Puck bit his lip to contain his laughter as Selwa degenerated into a whirl of Arabic that Puck could only understand as her cursing Kurt out. Kurt winced, apparently not ignorant of the fact._

_“Zenubia did not ride into battle to show off her_ ‘tits’ _—“ Puck was not able to stop himself from doubling over and roaring with laughter. Her light accent and the amount of derision she injected into one word was hysterical. “—She did so to reduce her male enemies to a pile of drooling dogs before she beheaded them!”_

_Puck stopped laughing immediately. Cold. That’s just cold in Puck’s opinion._

_“Right, so that’s a no…?”_

_“Kurt, that is a ‘I will not be bullied into your request because you flash your kitty-cat eyes at me’!”_

_Puck interjected, “Puppy dog eyes, Selwa, puppy dog.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_“Okay, you want me to say it? I’ll say it!” Kurt threw up his hands. “Noah, go back to the table for a minute.”_

_Wait, what? “What?”_

_“Go. Back. To. The. Table.”_

_Puck knew that voice. That was the ‘do as I say or there will be no blowjobs later’ voice._

_“Gotcha.”_

_Puck practically ran to the table, sitting down quickly to observe the two in the corner. Selwa still had her arms crossed across her chest and Kurt’s head was now bowed, lips moving furiously as he offered Selwa something more than he had previously._

_Puck watched as Selwa’s arms loosened and her face transform from one of unyielding stone to one of excited glee. She clapped her hands together and beamed at Kurt, who was wearing a sheepish grin. All of a sudden, she jumped on Kurt, arms winding around his neck. Kurt picked her up easily and swung her a bit before putting her down._

_They talked for a few minutes more, ironing out the details probably, before Kurt returned to the table. His face spoke of triumph._

_“We got the space!”_

_“I gathered,” Puck replied drily._

_Kurt smiled, “She also wouldn’t hear of us eating anywhere else, so she’s going to prepare dinner and leaving us to heat up the food and set the tables and whatnot. We just have to wash dishes and clean up.”_

_Puck was so confused. “How did she go from ‘No way in Arab hell’ to ‘Yes, please, use my restaurant for your fiendish ways’?”_

_“Oh stop being such a drama queen—“ Pot. Kettle. “—I just begged her some more. What fiendish ways do you think I have?”_

_“Kurt, we’ve been together for close to three years now. Trust me when I say that I know when you are up to something.” Puck stared right into Kurt’s beautiful blue eyes whose edges were crinkling in fondness. “And you, my princess, are up to something.”_

_“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Kurt’s eyes were now shimmering with barely concealed excitement._

_“Fine. I can wait.” Puck sincerely hoped that this had nothing to do with a Christmas present because, seriously, it would be best if whatever this surprise is was not painted with whatever brush Kurt used to come up with his Christmas presents to Puck. Tainted brush. Bad brush. “So, do you want the balawaah or the hirisi for dessert?”_

_“Let’s get the hirisi.” Kurt paused before continuing in an uncharacteristically hesitant tone, “Noah?”_

_Uh oh. “Yeah, Kurt?”_

_“You know there’s no such thing as an Arab hell, right? Being that Arab is an ethnicity and not a—“_

_“Oh shut up!” Kurt was laughing now. Puck could only hear because he buried his face in the dessert menu._

Puck grinned at the memory. Kurt was such a little douchebag. But a loveable douchebag. _His_ lovable douchebag.

 

Who was practically sitting in Mercedes’ lap as he leaned over to talk to Mai. What a slut.

 

Clearly that third glass of wine was getting to him.

 

Dinner had been delicious, even despite the fact that Santana almost burned the kibbeh. Kurt looked like he was going to kill her.

 

The preparation was made easy by Selwa’s explicit directions and, most importantly, how little she left up for them to do. They had long since sat down and ate and, at Kurt’s request, they had already washed the dishes in a communal effort, leaving the tables covered in dessert plates and wine glasses only.

 

The atmosphere was a warm, relaxed, romantic one. The fireplace was roaring and people were scattered and clustered in small groups. Santana was regaling Doctor and Mrs. Jones and Mav in one corner with some horror story of residency, he was sure. Mai, Mercedes, Quinn, and Kurt were laughing at something Mike was saying. Rachel was in a heated debate with Artie about the place that filmed musicals had in the entertainment industry. His sister and Finn were looking at something on Finn’s phone and his mother was talking with Burt and Carole about something or another.

 

Some people were noticeably missing. Sam couldn’t make it to New York in time for Christmas, but (surprisingly) at Finn’s insistence, he would be here in time for New Years. Tina was meeting her boyfriend’s parents in Wisconsin and Brittany was somewhere in Thailand. No one was really sure what that was about.

 

Puck was shook out of his thoughts when Finn suddenly stood up. “Two things, everybody,” he announced, clapping his hands together. “One, Puck, why are you being so antisocial?”

 

Puck could feel the flush crawl up his neck as everyone turned to stare at him. “Screw you, man.”

 

“Noah, language!” Kurt and his mother yelled in terrifying unison. Santana and Mercedes started cackling and Puck glared at them.

 

“What’s number two, you big tree?”

 

“Two is just a thought I had. This is the first time in almost a year that the majority of the National champion Glee club of 2012 is together and I haven’t heard a single note sung.” Finn shrugged. “I’m kinda disappointed.”

 

Oh fucking hell. Here we go.

 

“Finn is right. This is an outrage!” Rachel sprang to her feet.

 

“Oh fucking hell,” Puck could hear Kurt and Mercedes mutter in unison.

 

“Language!” Puck yelled mockingly. Kurt, like the three year old he apparently devolved into, stuck his tongue out at him.

 

“Unless you’re planning on putting that in my mouth, I suggest you roll it back into yours.”

 

“Noah!” his mother yelled again and Puck could see Burt glaring at him. Oops.

 

“Wait, I didn’t sign up for an evening of washed-out Glee-club losers trying to relive non-existent glory days. Do I have to be here for this?” Mav called out from her seat in the corner. Puck grinned as he heard Burt choke on the sip of wine he had just taken. 

 

“Are you by any chance related to a Sue Sylvester in Ohio?” Artie asked.

 

“I’m Puerto Rican.” Mav deadpanned. “Do I look like I could be related to a Sylvester?”

 

“Point taken.” Artie replied quickly and apologetically, as if afraid Mav would respond violently. Oh sweet, sweet, stupid Artie. Mav was mostly all bark and no bite. Mai was the one you had to watch out for.

 

“Mav, you’ll sit down and shut up and clap appropriately, got it?” Kurt said pointedly.

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Mav replied loudly. Under her breath, Puck could almost make out an (characteristic) utterance of “Crazy fucking white people.” He knew he was right when Santana held out a fist for Mav to bump with her own.

 

“Anyway, why don’t we get this over with—uh, started. I meant started,” Mercedes corrected herself unconvincingly. “Rachel, what would you like to sing?”

 

“Thank you, Mercedes!” Rachel bounced over to the piano in the middle of the restaurant. “Would anyone be available and willing to play accompaniment to my stellar rendition of ‘Holy Night’?”

 

Puck rolled his eyes, “Rach, you’re Jewish.”

 

“That does not mean I cannot sing a traditionally Christian hymn, Noah. ‘Tis the season, after all.” Rachel spoke slowly, as if to a small child.

 

Puck threw back his glass of wine and stood up. “Fine, I’ll do it at the expense of my Jewish soul.” Many eyes rolled, Kurt’s being the most obvious and obnoxious.

 

Loveable douchebag.

 

Rachel’s voice had not lost its affect on the assembled audience, reducing Quinn to tears and Santana’s face to a begrudging appreciation. Even Mav clapped sincerely at the end of the song, which Rachel mistakenly took as the laurels of friendship being extended finally and ran to take the empty seat beside her. Kurt did not hold back his mirth at the expression on Mav’s face.

 

“Who’s next?”

 

Mai got up, to Puck’s shock and Mav’s delight. “I’ll perform a song, if that’s okay?”

 

Her question was met with loud affirmative replies. “Puck, do you know ‘Santa Baby’?”

 

Puck chose the non-verbal reply and began playing. Mai sang a surprisingly seductive, velvety version of the already seductive song. Making her way around the room as she sang, she gained an entire room full of admirers. After the last note was sung, the room burst into applause. Mav was on her feet, clapping wildly and yelling, “That’s my girl!”

 

Mai’s smile was blinding as she hugged Puck in thanks. Puck laughed, “No problem, my little minx. Where the hell you’ve been hiding that, I’ll never know.”

 

The evening continued in a likewise spirited manner. Mercedes regaled them all with ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’, with Finn playing the drums on some plates and glasses and the rest of the room providing back up. The girls sang a sweet ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ and Finn and Artie led the guys in Jingle Bell Rock. Burt surprised everyone with a mostly in-tune ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’.

 

Fifteen minutes until the clock was set to chime midnight and ring in Christmas, Mercedes exclaimed, “Wait, Puck and Kurt didn’t sing anything!”

 

Kurt raised his eyebrows at her. “And me in ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ was what? Chopped liver?”

 

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. Take the lead in something!”

 

Carole agreed, “Didn’t you say that you sang a mean ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’?”

 

Puck fake retched. “He sang it with Anderson junior year.”

 

Kurt looked thoughtful, “I haven’t really sung it since. I would love to have another chance at it.”

 

“Babe, you can’t be serious!” Puck protested.

 

“Oh come on, Noah! Let’s reappropriate it or whatever,” Kurt pleaded.

 

Puck rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He sighed, “Can someone else play it?”

 

Santana went over to the piano, “I got it, Puckerman. Go date rape your boyfriend.”

 

“That’s not what the song—“ Rachel began before Mercedes shushed her.

 

Kurt got into place, standing by a column in the middle of the room. Santana began and they were off.

 

Puck wouldn’t admit it later on, but he had a lot of fun chasing Kurt around the room, playing the Johnny Mercer to his Margaret Whiting. Kurt’s voice was as angelic as ever, acting and performing skills not at all rusted with non-use.

 

They worked well together, Puck’s lechery combined with the coyness that Kurt played so well. Puck couldn’t resist stealing a kiss before his _oh, your lips are delicious_ line. Sue him. His boyfriend’s lips really were delicious.

 

They ended the song at the fireplace, with Puck pulling Kurt’s body to his. Singing the last line together, Kurt wrapped his arms around Puck’s neck, face inches apart from Puck’s. What would normally be uncomfortably awkward (singing in each other’s faces) was made ridiculously intimate by their years of being together.

 

_“Oh, but it’s cold outside!”_

 

Kurt tugged Puck into a deep kiss, lips folding over lips in the most practiced of ways. Their audience was cheering and clapping with enthusiasm, but that only registered in the back of Puck’s brain.

 

When they broke apart, Kurt hugged Puck tightly. “I love you, Noah,” he whispered.

 

“Love you, too, princess.” Puck was also whispering, why, he didn’t know.

 

Turning to their friends and family, Kurt joked, “Well, that was more predatory than junior year, but I think I liked it.”

 

Laughter had Puck bowing extravagantly before taking a seat near Finn and Mercedes. “I can only be who I am, what can I say?” Puck grinned at Kurt.

 

Kurt who was still standing at the fireplace, face reflecting somber, heavy thoughts. The grin on Puck’s face melted to a hard line of worry. He started to ask Kurt what was wrong when the man in question began to speak in a quiet voice.

 

“The first time I sang that song with someone—a real someone, not just with the radio—was junior year with Blaine.”

 

The room fell into a silence that wound its way around Puck’s lungs and pressed tightly on them. He couldn’t move; fear froze him in place.

 

Kurt continued, oblivious to Puck’s terror. “We weren’t together yet, but I was already head over heels.”

 

What was happening? Puck was too afraid to find out where this was going, but whether or not he wanted to figure it out, looking at the faces of Mercedes, Burt, Finn, Rachel— _everyone_ —offered no clue. They sat there with rapt attention, as if it was normal for Kurt to be waxing poetic about his ex-boyfriend on Christmas Eve.

 

“I thought Blaine was perfect. The perfect boyfriend. He was just the Carey Grant that I always pictured. Smooth, suave, _nice_ , attractive. And he was gay! The first outwardly gay boy I had ever met. I started planning our wedding about ten minutes after we first met!” He laughed a little and Puck’s mouth went dry.

 

“Kurt—“ His voice cracked—choked, really, on the singular syllable—betraying his terror and enormous sadness.

 

Mercedes caught his eye and offered him a small smile. Puck could give her nothing but a miserable expression back.

 

“Then college came and we were apart.”

 

Kurt was still going! Puck couldn’t believe it. He was actually going to have his heart broken in front of his closest friends and family.

 

“We broke up, knowing that what we once had wasn’t the same or enough to keep us together. We were both growing into different people and just didn’t fit anymore.”

 

Was Blaine here? Was this Kurt’s idea of the worst Christmas gift ever? Because the brass knuckles, ill fitting sweaters, and ice skates were bad, but this would take the cake. Puck wouldn’t be able to even _attempt_ to hide his grief.

 

Just when he was about to jump out of his seat and out of the restaurant, Kurt’s eyes sought out his and Puck was now frozen in place for a very different reason.

 

Kurt’s eyes expressed so much normally, but at this moment they radiated so much emotion, Puck couldn’t look away.

 

“I didn’t really have another serious relationship after that. College was too busy to be involved with someone past a few dates and then work was hectic and I never met anyone that took my breath away.”

 

The room was quiet save for the crackling of the wood in the fireplace.

 

“And then one day, fate brought back someone I had left in my past.” Kurt’s face stretched into a watery smile. “I first met Noah Puckerman when I was five years old and he shared his Power Ranger action figures with me.” Laughter murmured in the mostly-quiet room, Puck’s strangled chuckle ringing above the din.

 

“Fast forward ten years and Noah was Puck and Puck tossed me into dumpsters—“ Puck broke his eye contact with Kurt to stare at the floor in shame. “—but then Glee happened and a year later Puck was the one offering to be my personal bodyguard when the bullying got to be too much.” Kurt laughed, “You could never predict what Puck was going to do. I certainly couldn’t because, before I knew it, Puck was someone I considered a friend!”

 

Puck looked back to Kurt, asking silently where this was going. Kurt just continued, “Fast forward again five years and there I am, running into Puck in the middle of New York City!”

 

Mav started snickering, obviously remembering the circumstances around their reunion. Puck heard her stop suddenly and knew that Mai had caused her some sort of physical harm.

 

“Except this wasn’t Puck. This was Noah. While I grew up and Mercedes grew up and Rachel and Finn and everybody grew up, Puck grew up into Noah, a kind man with humor and humility, with talent and vision and the drive to execute that vision.”

 

Puck stared at Kurt. He’d never seen his face so starkly open. Bare, leaving nothing hidden.

 

“Comparing Puck and Noah, one would never be able to see the connection. Puck was a jock. Noah is a gentleman. Puck was too afraid to be different. Noah shines in a light all his own.”

 

Tears were gathering in Puck’s eyes and he couldn’t do anything to stop them.

 

“But, if we had only looked harder, we could have seen Noah back in Lima. That’s one of the biggest regrets I have about high school. I never took the time to get closer to Noah Puckerman and realize what an amazing human being he was. But I guess I should let it go, because if I changed a single thing about my life, I might not be standing here today. I might not be with Noah today and I can’t—no, I _won’t_ imagine a life without him.”

 

Kurt stopped now. Eyes never leaving Puck’s face, Kurt walked over to where Puck was sitting. He stood over Puck, who still had no idea what was going on.

 

A beat passed and then Kurt got down on one knee.

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

Puck stole a look around the room. Mercedes and Rachel were clutching each other, tears falling down both their faces. Finn was smiling, eyes wet. Burt and Carole wore identical expressions and Mai was sitting in Mav’s lap, both smiling. Everyone, even Santana, was smiling.

 

Puck turned his gaze back to Kurt, who was staring at him intently through red, tear-filled eyes. He placed his hands on Puck’s thighs. When he spoke, he spoke with a tear-coated voice.

 

“I never want to imagine a life without you, Noah. You aren’t perfect, no one is. But you are perfect for _me_ , Noah. In every way. You make me the best possible man I can be.” Kurt was crying now and Puck couldn’t help but cry with him. “I love myself when I’m with you. I still can’t believe we’re together, that you love me. And I know that I’m hoping beyond all hope that you’ll say yes.”

 

Oh _God_.

 

“Will you marry me, Noah Puckerman?”

 

There was a ring. Kurt had a ring. Puck didn’t know how he had missed Kurt taking out a ring, but there it was.

 

Wait. What the fuck was he waiting for?

 

“Yes.”

 

Puck wanted to shout, but it came out as more of a croak because he was crying so hard. “Yes. God, yes, Kurt.”

 

Kurt surged up, dragging Puck to his feet. His mouth was on Puck’s before Puck could fully process it, but he didn’t need a brain to respond. He cradled Kurt’s face in his hands and pulled him that much closer. They were breathing as one, Kurt’s fingers digging into Puck’s waist, his tears tracing hot paths down Puck’s hands.

 

They broke apart—if you could call it that because Kurt was still peppering Puck’s face with small kisses and Puck was letting him—to the sounds of their friends and family screaming and cheering.

 

Puck was pulled into a hug by Burt and could feel Carole and Finn latching on to him from behind. His mother and Sarah jumped on Kurt, who was laughing through his tears. The rest of their friends clamored to hug them and offer their congratulations.

 

“Wait, wait!” Kurt yelled, laughing. “Can I please put the ring on my fiancé?”

 

Puck laughed when Mercedes, Rachel, Santana, and Mai started singing ‘Single Ladies’ at the top of their lungs and Finn waved his hand in the now incredibly familiar fashion.

 

Kurt took Puck’s left hand in his and placed the white-gold band on Puck’s ring finger. The ring was beautiful, studded with small diamonds that glittered in the low light of the restaurant. Simple, elegant, classy. It had Kurt Hummel written all over it.

 

“ _I liked it, so I put a ring on it_ ,” Kurt sang under his breath before fixing Puck with a blinding smile.

 

Puck surged forward for another kiss.

 

 

 

 

An hour later, Kurt and Puck were wrapped up in a thick blanket, sitting on their fire escape-turned-balcony. The others had ushered them out of the restaurant not long after everyone got their congratulations in. They wouldn’t hear of it when Kurt protested that they should help out with the remaining clean up. Mercedes practically shoved them out on the street, telling them that Finn and her would give them two hours to ‘get their jollies out’ before they returned to their apartment.

 

Truth be told, the only thing they did when they got home was change into pajamas, make hot chocolate, and snuggle under the blanket on the balcony. Puck was too emotionally wrought—in a good way—to even think about sex and Kurt was coming down from the high of his (accepted!) proposal.

 

And taking in the sights of New York City on a late Christmas Eve night (now really early Christmas Day) was hardly a consolation prize.

 

“You’re sure about this, right? About marrying me?” Self-doubt was a color that Kurt didn’t wear very well and one Puck almost didn’t recognize on him.

 

“Not really. In the hour since you asked, I’ve been thinking and—“ Puck deadpanned. He was cut off when Kurt elbowed him in the stomach. He laughed and Kurt giggled.

 

“Fine, I see your point. You still don’t have to be a jackass about it.”

 

“Diva.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Drama queen.”

 

“Look who’s talking!”

 

“You’re the one that said that you can’t imagine living without me,” Puck shot back smugly.

 

Kurt sobered, “I can’t. I really can’t, Noah.”

 

It took effort for Puck to hold back tears at the sincerity in Kurt’s voice, but he managed it. “Ditto, babe.”

 

Kurt smiled contentedly and burrowed back into the crook of Puck’s neck. He started singing and it took Puck a second to make out the muffled tune.

 

_“So take a chance and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back”_

 

“Seriously, Kurt? ‘Teenage Dream’? _Seriously?_ Hasn’t enough of this evening been tainted by Anderson?”

 

Kurt snorted, “Fine, you big baby. _Hands, touching hands. Reaching out—_ “

 

“I’m surprised you remembered considering how hung up you are on Anderson.” Puck was still miffed.

 

“Remember? I remember. I remember enough that you sang that song to Rachel freaking Berry.” Kurt pulled away from Puck to glare at him. Two could play this game, it seemed.

 

“Let’s not ruin this perfect night with the past, shall we?” Puck flashed Kurt his ‘charming’ grin and Kurt snorted in reply.

 

“Good idea, Noah.” He leaned back against Puck’s chest again. “So, did you like your Christmas present this time?”

 

Puck stiffened. “I always love your Christmas presents, Kurt,” he said quickly.

 

“Don’t even try it, Puckerman. I know I’ve failed pretty spectacularly in the past,” Kurt voice was heavy with resignation.

 

“It really doesn’t matter, babe. I swear.”

 

Kurt sighed, “It’s just—you know when something is really, really important and you know you _can’t_ screw it up and you work really hard to make sure that you don’t screw it up and you end up screwing it up anyway?” His words melded together as he spoke quickly, but Puck was accustomed to it, accustomed to Kurt, and managed to understand.

 

“Yeah, I know. Trust me,” Puck reassured him.

 

“Well, you somehow didn’t let it affect your gift giving abilities in my case. Or is it that I’m just not that important to you?” Kurt teased, grinning up at Puck.

 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Puck laughed. “No, babe. I just thought about what you would like and got it. No second-guessing. Speaking of which, it’s officially Christmas. Want your gift now, princess?”

 

Kurt’s eyes shone with excitement, “Yes, please!”

 

Puck laughed at his enthusiasm and pecked Kurt on the lips before maneuvering himself from underneath Kurt, “Sure thing, let me get it.”

 

When he had one leg in the window, Kurt grabbed his arm. Startled, Puck looked back at him.

 

“What is it?”

 

Kurt’s face was solemn and serious, “You never answered my question, Noah. Did you like your gift this year?”

 

“I got you for Christmas, Kurt.” Puck looked into Kurt’s eyes, making sure that he understood his words. “I couldn’t dream of a better gift.”

 

Kurt’s answering smile was one of childlike please, “Really?”

 

“Really.” Puck kissed him. “Now, do you want your present or not?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Puck laughed and went inside. He ran to the tree and picked up an envelope from underneath it.

 

Kurt was waiting outside, drinking the rest of his hot chocolate.

 

“Okay, I hope you aren’t disappointed, babe.”

 

“What was it that you said before? Oh right. Shut up.” Kurt shook his head and placed his mug on the windowsill. “I don’t care, Noah.”

 

Puck handed over the envelope and watched as Kurt opened it slowly. He pulled out the card and started reading it out loud.

 

“ _We thank you for your donation of five hundred dollars made to the Ali Forney Center in the name of Kurt Hummel. Happy holidays and have a wonderful—“_ Kurt was unable to finish reading because he got too choked up with tears.

 

“Shhh, babe. C’me here.” Puck drew Kurt into his arms. Kurt sobbed into his neck as Puck ran his hands down Kurt’s back. “I hoped you would like it.”

 

Kurt was still crying, so his reply was muffled and Puck more felt the reply than heard it. “I love it and I love you, Noah.”

 

“I love you, too, princess.”

 

“Planning our wedding is going to be so much fun.”

 

“Oh fucking _hell_.”

 

“It really will be,” Kurt agreed, pulling back to wipe the tears off his face.

 

Puck laughed, “It’ll be worth it for the honeymoon.”

 

Kurt clapped his hands excitedly, “Oh, such a good point! Where are you thinking of?”

 

Puck shrugged, “Anywhere that I can get you naked for extended periods of time.”

 

Kurt rolled his eyes, “So, anywhere?”

 

“I like your thinking,” Puck replied, grinning.

 

Kurt turned to lean against wrought iron that protected him from the four-story drop to the street. He looked out onto the soft lights of the city that never slept, not even on Christmas Eve. He sighed wistfully, “There is so much planning to be done.”

 

Puck came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist. He leaned down to whisper in Kurt’s ear, “Babe, we got engaged two hours ago. Our wedding won’t be for _at least_ another six months. We can worry about it later.”

 

Kurt turned to kiss him on the cheek, “Are you going to sing to me on our wedding day?”

 

“Are you going to sing to me?” Puck retorted.

 

“I’m afraid that by that point, you’re going to be so sick of my voice, the best present I could give you would be to shut up,” Kurt joked.

 

“Never, Kurt. I will never be tired of hearing your voice.” Puck sighed against the back of Kurt’s neck. “I think that if I had the choice, I’d want the last thing I heard on this Earth is your voice singing ‘Defying Gravity’.”

 

Kurt started, “After all this time?”

 

“Always.”

 

“Then that’ll be what I sing to you. Not that you’re going to die, because that’s just not going to happen.”

 

Puck laughed, “I’m never going to die?”

 

“Nope. Never.”

 

“Excellent.” Puck placed a kiss on Kurt’s neck. “What should I sing to you?”

 

“Surprise me.” Kurt paused. “But, let it be known now that if it was a song you ever sang to a girl in Glee club, I will drop you like last season’s Michael Kors.”

 

Puck burst out laughing, “Oh no! What ever will I do now that I can’t sing ‘Sweet Caroline’ in a room full of New Yorkers or ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ to a man or ‘The Lady is a Tramp’ to a man again? I’m screwed!”

 

Kurt joined in on the laughter, “Shut up, you know what I meant!”

 

Puck’s laughs reduced to chuckles, “Yeah, I do. Promise, babe, this song will be all yours.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They fell into an almost reverent silence, taking in the sights. At some point, some time later, Puck felt the gentle caress of snowflakes on his shaved head.

 

Kurt sang, quietly, “ _And as long as you love me so—“_

Puck joined him, _“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_.”

 

END


End file.
